


Abbey House, Room Four

by theianitor



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Boarding School, Boys Being Boys, First Day of School, Gen, Hints of plot but not really, Smoking, introductions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: Lando had always hated the first day of school, always hated introductions and having to make new friends. Unlike any school he’d been to before, he wouldn’t have the option to go home now. He had to live with some of his classmates. What if you didn’t get along? What if they found out that Lando was just some scholarship kid and decided they didn’t like him?What if all his roommates hated him?
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Abbey House, Room Four

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. :)  
> Another in-the-middle-of-things thing, because I needed to write but damn it's been tough getting stuff out. Might do more on it at some point but no promises. Still, it was fun, and it's good to get the words out.

Lando’s dad pulled up in the parking lot and Lando did his best to not look up at the huge stone building in front of them. There were a lot of cars, slowly winding their way around the two lots and up and down the road leading up to the school. Some of them looked expensive. A lot more expensive than his dad’s car. Then again, he hadn’t been expecting any less; this was Silverstone Academy, and while his family was pretty well off, he’d only been able to go on account of getting a scholarship.

“You... you don’t have to walk me up there, dad,” he said, hauling his suitcase out of the boot.

“Nonsense, Lando. You can’t lug all this up there by yourself!” His father took out the second suitcase. “I’ll stay out of your way, don’t worry,” he continued when his son opened his mouth to protest. “I know it’s not _cool_ to have your parents hanging around on the first day.”

“Nobody says _cool_ , dad,” Lando grumbled, but accepted the help, starting the walk up to the main building.

When they had made it all the way up, Lando had to admit he’d never have made it all the way up without his father’s help. It wasn’t that far or that steep, but the suitcase he was carrying, the lighter of the two, was very heavy, and it was a warm day. He was starting to feel sweaty in his blazer, and put his finger down his shirt collar to stretch it a little and get some air.

“Don’t do that,” his dad admonished. “You’ll get your tie crooked.”

Lando felt his cheeks heat up as his dad fixed his tie. “Dad,” he muttered, not looking at him.

“Fine, you fix it next time,” his father said, standing up straight again. “I’ll wait over here, you go to the introduction and then we’ll get your things over to the dorm.”

It felt good to leave the suitcase behind but also a little bit like that had been anchoring him. Now he was free-floating, a leaf on the breeze among all these rich kids, and they could probably tell straight away that he didn’t belong. He wasn’t _one of them_. He wiped his hands on his blazer and then quickly looked down to make sure he hadn’t stained or rumpled it.

The blazer was part of the uniform, and looked just as neat as the day he’d bought it. Dark grey, with the Silverstone emblem on the breast pocket. Even the list of uniform clothes had made Lando feel out of place. Everything was so structured and set, he felt like he was sure to mess it up. Getting it wrong would mean not only making the teachers mad, but also had a high probability of making him a laughing stock in front of these other kids. He felt like an imposter, watching as an expensive car with tinted windows rolled past him on the way up to the school.

_Probably a staff member or someone especially well-known,_ he thought. There had been a stop further down the road, directing students and their parents to the parking lots, and only a few cars seemed to be let past.

Making his way across the road and out of the blissful shadow of the oak trees surrounding the open area in front of the school, he looked around trying to not look too obvious about it. There were students milling around, some in small groups, obviously already familiar with each other, and some still standing by their parents. Some of them looked a fair bit older than Lando.

There were a lot of dark grey blazers, but here and there he saw boys wearing dark blue. Some of them had already drawn closer together, and he knew this was the secondary program. A small cluster of dark-haired boys with blue blazers fell silent and looked at him as he passed, doing his best to not look at them. They looked like they were at least second- or maybe even third-years. As soon as his back was to them he heard conversation starting up again, low and secretive, and then a sudden burst of loud laughter made him jump, looking back. One of the boys was laughing raucously, the others snickering along beside him.

In front of the large double-doors that led in to the academy, a wide stage had been erected, a small podium in the middle with a microphone. Some people were already up there, talking among themselves. Teachers, who were also divided by dark grey and blue blazers, surveying the new and old students and getting ready for introductions.

Lando knew what was coming.

He’d been given a schedule that he’d read through so many times he knew it off by heart now. Introductions, a tour of their respective dorms, rules and regulations, and then some free time before lunch, and the first lesson of the day.

He saw the fancy car that had passed him earlier as it turned and stopped, two people stepping out of the back. One was a young man, probably about his age, dressed in a school uniform and looking around like he was bored. On the other side, a man in a well-cut suit got out, leaned down to say something to the driver – _this guy has a driver_ , Lando thought in something of a panic – and then the car made its way down the road again.

“Do you have everything then?” the man said, brushing some unseen dust off of his son’s shoulders. The young man sighed.

“Yes dad.”

“George,” the man said, a slight warning in his voice but a smile on his lips.

The young man straightened up, put his hands behind his back, and smiled brightly.

“Of course I have everything, father,” he said, his pronunciation exaggeratedly clear. The man opened his mouth to say something more when someone drew the attention of them both.

“Jenson! Did not know if I would see you here!”

It was a shorter man in a black suit, tan, with neatly combed-back black hair, making his way over with a boy in tow. The boy had black hair too and was already taller than his father, but they looked rather alike. Lando couldn’t stop himself from taking a half-step closer to eavesdrop a little bit.

“Fernando!” George’s father said, smiling and greeting the man first with a handshake and then pulling him in for a half-hug. “You could have told me Carlos had gotten in too, we could have arranged something.”

“No need, no need,” the shorter man dismissed. “We only picked the school late, thinking about school in Spain...”

“But you know Silverstone is the best,” Jenson grinned, winking at him. Lando sighed to himself. Both these boys were obviously legacy kids, probably the latest in a long line of men in their families who had gone to Silverstone. His own dad had attended public school.

Then he looked up, gasping. Carlos. Fernando. He dared a peek over his shoulder at them and now he recognized him. Fernando Alonso, shipping magnate and motorsports enthusiast who had purchased a damn Formula 1 team only the year before. Sneaking another glance at George and his father he only just stopped himself from gasping again. That was Jenson Button, lawyer-turned-politician with a family fortune beyond most people’s wildest imaginations.

George and Carlos shook hands, slightly stiff, neither smiling. Lando watched them as they sized each other up, and mentally did the same. Carlos had his hair swept back, like his father, his dark eyes surveying the boy in front of him like he was trying to memorize what he looked like. George glanced him up and down once and then turned slightly toward his father, clearly indicating he didn’t care to talk. He had a strong-looking jaw and his brown hair was combed to the side, making him look very neat. Both these guys had probably been in tailor-made suits since before Lando could even _spell_ suit.

They kept talking behind him and Lando looked around again. More teachers had appeared on the stage and he caught one of them, a blue-blazered man with curly hair, waving to someone in the little sea of students that he clearly recognized. One of the three men in black suits up on the stage, the shortest of them with a mop of white hair and glasses so big they seemed to take up most of his face, approached the podium. There must be a little box or something behind there because he appeared much taller when he leaned in to begin speaking. A hush stole over the crowd.

“Welcome, students, current and former, new, and returning.” His words sounded practiced, like he said them at the start of every school year.

“My name is Headmaster Ecclestone and...”

\--

The headmaster had introduced the teachers briefly, gone over some of the history of Silverstone Academy, and presented the two main programs in very short terms. Lando had been too nervous to listen fully. Nobody else seemed as nervous as he felt, and most of the parents had left now, or stepped aside over to the trees where Lando had caught sight of his own father again, talking to a couple he didn’t recognize.

When Ecclestone again welcomed them and finished his speech, there was general applause and then a moment of quiet before people started slowly making their way towards the dorms or back to their cars to pick up their packing. Now Lando noticed a signpost in the middle of the lawn in front of the school, with signs pointing either which way. All the dorm houses were marked on it, with Vale, Stowe, and Abbey pointing right, and Brooklands and Woodcote to the left. Brooklands and Woodcote were the dorms where the secondary students stayed, close to the track and field course.

“Do you know the way then?” his father asked, appearing at his shoulder with both his suitcases. Lando didn’t say anything, but grabbed one of the bags and started walking. With his acceptance papers he’d been given a dorm already: room four, Abbey house. He’d checked the note, and the online layout of the school, so many times he thought he could probably find it without too much trouble, but still obsessively read all the little signs pointing them on as they walked down the path around the school.

The grounds were big, he’d known that beforehand, but it was something else to see them in person. Well-cut, green lawns surrounded the grounds, and the whole place was surrounded by trees, leaving it feeling secluded and secret. It wasn’t visible from any of the main roads. Down a sloping hill, he saw the lake, where students were allowed to swim in the summer and where the rowing team practiced.

There were other people walking towards the dorms too, some splitting off at the signposts for Vale and Stowe, but Lando didn’t recognize any of them. One boy was followed by both his mother and father, and what must be his little brother, who was constantly asking questions about everything and everyone he saw. Lando tuned it out so successfully that his father had to nudge him when they finally reached the dorms.

It was another light brown stone building, two stories tall with red roof tiles that glowed orange in the sunlight coming through the trees. The road went right up to the house and ended in a little cul-de-sac. Some older boys were already messing around, laughing and talking as if they knew each other, and they looked at him with superior smiles when he passed. Lando tried to focus on the house and nothing else.

“Right, do you want me to help you carry this up or..?”

“No, thanks dad,” Lando said quickly. His father nodded to himself as if he’d been expecting the answer.

“I’ll go then. Don’t forget to write, and you can always call if there’s anything you’ve forgotten or-”

“I know, dad, thanks.”

They stood facing each other for a little bit, and not until his father started turning to leave did Lando reach out and try for a hug.

“We’ll see you soon enough, son,” his father rumbled, patting him on the back. Lando nodded, his face pressed against his father’s shoulder. He would miss home.

He watched his father go and turned back to the house, picking up his suitcases with a groan. How were they so damn heavy? He made his way to the entrance and not until now did he notice the expensive car from before parked out front.

“... and remember to behave this time, alright?” Jenson was telling his son.

“Of course, father,” George said politely.

“I’m not joking.”

“I know you’re not,” George sighed.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” his father placated. “Make some friends, do some homework. _Be good_.” He patted George on the shoulder with a fond smile. “Time’ll fly by.”

“I’ll do my best.”

A man in a double-breasted jacket was tugging two large suitcases out of the boot of their car and started towards the stairs with them.

“Put them down,” Jenson called.

“Dad!” George said, making a face. The man put the suitcases down, casting an apologetic glance at George and giving his father a nod.

“You’re an able-bodied young man, you can carry them your damn self,” Jenson said, giving him a bracing pat on the cheek. George tried to turn his head away. “If you hurry, you can catch up to Carlos.”

“Yes _father_.”

With that, George betrayed his slender frame and picked his bags up without so much as a sound, and started for the stairs. Jenson looked around once more and then disappeared into the car with the tinted windows, and the driver got inside and started their journey home. Lando looked after the car, kind of wishing he could be heading home too.

Inside the little lobby on the first floor, two desks had been set up for new students to retrieve their keys, and Lando lined up at the one George had _not_ chosen. The other line moved faster though, and when it was finally his turn, he didn’t see George in the other line anymore.

After spelling his name to the boy at the desk, he got his key, a spare, and his student ID-card. Once he had everything he shuffled his bags and himself to the side of the room and then struggled to get the keys and card into his pocket, so he could pick both bags up again. There were no elevators and his room was on the second floor. Beside him, a boy set his bags down on the floor with a huff, obviously intent on stuffing his keys and card away without being in the way too.

“Hi,” he said, shooting Lando a smile. “I’m Alex.”

“Eh... Lando,” Lando said, remembering himself and holding out his hand. “Lando Norris.”

Alex was tall and had dark, short hair and tan skin. He looked at home in his blazer, his tie very straight and he even had a tie clip on it.

“Which room are you in?”

“Four,” Lando said, resisting the urge to check his papers. He _knew_ the room number, it was a bad habit to have to keep checking and re-checking.

“Nice, me too,” Alex said, bending down to pick his bags up again. “At least there’ll be one friendly face in there then, right?”

“Yeah,” Lando said with a wobbly smile. He’d always hated the first day of school, always hated introductions and having to make new friends. Alex had reminded him that, unlike any school he’d been to before, he wouldn’t have the option to go home here. He had to _live_ with some of his classmates. What if you didn’t get along? What if Alex found out later that Lando was just some scholarship kid and decided he didn’t like him? What if _all_ his roommates hated him?

“Come on, or all the good beds will be taken,” Alex urged him, and Lando hurried to follow him up the stairs.

Room four was at the end of the hall to the left on the second floor. The house felt and smelled old, with worn wooden floors that creaked as they continued down the hall, looking at the little brass plaques next to the doors. Every room they passed had the doors flung open, and in each one Lando saw boys greeting each other and starting to put their things away. All along the walls there were portraits of the school founders and historic students, all stern-looking men glaring down at them as they passed. Pop music started playing from the other hall.

“Here it is,” Alex said. The door to room four was the only one that was closed. Without knocking, he turned the handle and opened it.

It was fairly spacious, with pretty large windows facing the woods behind the house, framed with thin, white curtains. The first things he saw were two large desks and two smaller ones, and further inside were four identical beds and four closets. There was a suitcase haphazardly thrown onto one of the beds, already opened, and a closed one standing at the foot of it. One bed had thus already been claimed by someone.

“Close the fucking door!” a voice called, and Lando hurried to get the door shut.

Beyond the beds and closets, he saw as he dragged his suitcases further inside, there was a little sitting-area, with an armchair and a small sofa. The area was partially hidden behind the last wardrobe.

“Welcome to hell, lads. Pick your beds,” the voice continued.

Lando glanced at Alex, who was looking as surprised as he felt. They made their way inside and before Lando could think it, Alex had put one of his bags onto the bed furthest from the one that was already taken. Damn it. Now he’d have to sleep nearer to whoever that was. He chose the bed opposite the taken one. A little further from the door, but also a little further from the other person. Looking at Alex again, he received a little shake of the head. Alex wasn’t going to go first. Lando let his curiosity guide him and cautiously made his way beyond the last two wardrobes.

There were two armchairs, but he hadn’t seen the second one on account of it having been moved in front of the wide-open window. Across the armchair, sprawled out with one leg hooked over the armrest and his arm lazily dangling across the other, lay George.

His school tie was loosened and he’d undone two buttons of his shirt, and had opened his blazer completely. His neatly combed hair had been mussed up and pulled back, leaving him looking every inch the bored aristocrat from some historic romance novel. He looked at Lando and shot him a grin. There was a cigarette at the corner of his mouth.

“Hiya. Want a fag, mate?”

His accent was no longer the posh and proper act he’d been putting on in front of his father, but a much more relaxed melody.

“Eh... no. Thanks,” Lando said.

“Your loss,” George shrugged, raising his eyes a little as Alex appeared at Lando’s side. “What ’bout you then?”

“No thanks,” Alex said, looking slightly incredulous. “Aren’t you..?”

Surging up out of the chair and getting to his feet, George stood up and went over to them, cigarette still between his lips.

“George Russell,” he said, holding his hand out. Alex shook his hand and introduced himself, and Lando did the same, having his hand squeezed by George’s slender fingers.

“So... your dad is..?” Alex continued.

George rolled his eyes, like he’d been asked this so many times he was sick of it.

“Yeah, he is.”

“That’s so cool though,” Alex said, his smile broadening. “I did some law studies last semester, just the basics, you know, but we read about your dad and that case he had with-”

“What’cha want, an autograph?” George interrupted. Alex looked a little lost.

“I was just... I think he’s a bit... impressive.”

“Oh very,” George said, rolling his eyes again. He turned and went back to the armchair, flopping down and resuming his gangly position with one leg over the side of it.

“Two marriages finished before 25, two law partners fucked _and_ fucked over, and only one son young enough to still need ‘im so let’s ship the other one off to boarding school. But sure. _Impressive_.”

His tone was so final that Alex and Lando glanced at each other again, neither sure what to. They were saved having to do anything by the door opening again. George didn’t even turn to look.

“Close the fucking door!” he called in the same tone as last time. Carlos, who had just managed to get in with his bags, stopped and looked up, surprised.

“I’ve got it,” Lando said, hurrying forward to help.

“Thank you?” Carlos still looked a little unsure. “Are you allowed to smoke here?” he continued when George got out of his chair again to have a look at him.

“Nope.” He grinned and exhaled a puff of smoke.

“Ah, it’s you...” Carlos started, eyes widening in recognition.

“Oh, what an honor!” George interrupted. “Carlos Sainz-Alonso,” he simpered, bowing to press Carlos’s free hand with both of his own. “Such a treat to meet you in the flesh!” He dropped his smile, rolled his eyes and let go. “You want a fag, mate?”

“Is... is just Carlos,” Carlos said, glancing almost apologetically at Alex and Lando, putting his other suitcase down. “My dad is always... with the names.”

“Mine did the same, din’t he?”

“You two know each other?” Alex asked, sounding surprised.

“We have met, we are not friends,” Carlos said, and then looked like he’d realized that he’d said it out loud. “I did not mean-”

“Just say you don’t smoke, it’s fine,” George said, looking at his new roommates in turn with a little smirk. “So, safe to say none of you gentlemen have served time in an English boarding school before?”

“I suppose you have, then?” Alex replied, crossing his arms. Lando looked from one to the other, feeling a little nervous.

“Most of last year, actually.” George turned to flick what remained of his cigarette out the open window. “Feels great to be back,” he added flatly.

His words were met with silence, and the confident look on Alex’s face slid off.

“You... you were kicked out?” Carlos finally said in a low voice. Lando couldn’t tell if he was impressed or a little worried.

“Kinda.” George shrugged.

“So how are you... here?” Lando hated how his voice sounded so small, but it was mostly from being surprised, not because he was in any way concerned about what George might think of him asking. George looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

Overhead, a speaker came to life with a sharp note, followed by a man’s voice.

_“This is dorm supervisor Horner. All students will gather downstairs for a thorough review of the rules and regulations of Abbey House.”_

“Well lads, time to go pay the devil his due,” George said with a grin, pulling his tie back up around his neck and running a hand through his hair to flatten it back down. The other three looked at each other.

“Come on,” George continued, giving Carlos a little nudge to get him moving. Alex and Lando followed them out of the room.

As they made their way down the hall, following the throng of other boys going downstairs, someone stepped out in front of Lando and gave him a very nasty look before giving George a prod.

“They really will let anyone in here, won’t they?”

George barely gave the boy a glance, and kept walking. “Obviously, since _you’re_ here.”

The boy was pretty tall and had a square jaw, and his eyes glinted at George’s comment.

“How many days before you’re caned again, you think? I’m betting three, tops,” the boy said. Someone next to him chortled. “I’d love to see it.”

“And I’d love for you to go drown in the lake, but we don’t always get what we want, do we, _Maxie?_ ” George said, turning to look straight ahead. The boy gave Alex and Lando another sneering look but then made his way over to a few other boys and started talking to them.

“Who was that?” Lando whispered to Alex.

“No idea.”

“That’s Max Verstappen. Second-year student, first-rate asshole,” George said, still facing forward. “Don’t get involved, is my expert advice.”

Dorm supervisor Horner stepped up onto a small podium in the lobby and silence fell. Lando couldn’t stop himself from glancing over to where Max stood with his friends.

“Eyes forward, Norris,” George whispered, giving him a discreet nudge with his elbow. When Lando looked at him, he was met with a smile, George’s eyes twinkling with something he wanted to call _mischief_.

Trying to focus on what dorm supervisor Horner was talking about, Lando couldn’t stop himself from wondering just what the rest of the year might hold.

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual! :)  
> Thanks for the read! Any comments and kudoses are greatly appreciated and loved! <3


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